A Show They'll Never Forget
by Primrose 14
Summary: A short story that addresses the identity of the magician in Natewantstobattle's music video for Phantom.


**A.N. This is just a random one-shot inspired from an idea I had for an English assignment. I hope this is enjoyable!**

**Update: I wanted to thank Guineapigpr for reviewing! I followed your suggestion while editing and found the new product much more satisfactory, as I hope you will. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: This story is partially based on the Secret Series by Pseudonymous Bosch and the music video for Phantom by Nathan Sharp. All characters belong to said makers.**

The young man stepped up to the stage and stood behind the curtain. As he waited for the curtain to lift and the act to start, he contemplated his feelings. Nervousness. Fear. Excitement. The anticipation of his first performance left him frozen as he tried to sort out this mess of emotions. He never had skill in identifying emotions, his friends told him so plenty of times. He shook away the memories and emotions and breathed in. He had this in the bag, or in his case, hat. As Max-Ernest, aspiring magician and comedian, awaited the rising of the curtains, he filled his mind with confident thoughts of how well he would perform. The curtains rose. Max-Ernest gazed at the crowd for a moment, then began his act. "H-hi," he stuttered, "May I present to you the show of your life, hosted by me, Max-Ernest!" The crowd stared at him with cold, unfeeling eyes. Max-Ernest fumbled with his rings as he pulled them out. He held them up in the air and, after a couple of tries, managed to hook them together. "Ta-da!" He exclaimed as he showed the rings to the unimpressed crowd. The crowd reacted with yawns and a few boos. Max-Ernest, however, refused to give up. He attempted a few other magic tricks, but failed to complete them. As the curtains closed with the audience booing, Max-Ernest felt one emotion; disappointment.

As he sulked in his room, he failed to notice a man enter his room. When he looked up, startled by a cough, he saw a man in his mid-20s wearing a red suit and black vest standing before him, holding a strange scepter. "Hey there, kid," the strange man said, his mouth curling into a kind smile, "I saw your performance, and I've got to say, it…" he paused, searching for the right word, "...intrigued me."

"What do you want?" Max-Ernest demanded, suspicion building up.

"I want to make a deal with you." The man replied, Max-Ernest's reaction amusing him. "I think you have some great potential there, kid, you just have to unlock it. Now all you need to do is sign this contract." He pulled out a scroll and set it on the table. Max-Ernest stared at him for a moment.

"And what should I call you?" He asked. The man smirked.

"You may call me Phantom." he replied, extending his hand. Max-Ernest took it and shook uncertainly, then smiled back. Maybe he still had a chance.

"Splendid!" Phantom grinned as he revealed a bottle of ink. "Now, just sign this, and your greatest desires will be fulfilled." Max-Ernest looked from the bottle to the scroll, and then back to Phantom.

"So, if I sign this, I'll be a good magician?" he asked. Phantom smirked at him.

"Kid, if you sign this, you'll give them a show they'll never forget." Max-Ernest sighed and nodded.

"Okay, I'll do it." Phantom smiled at this and rolled out the scroll to reveal a contract. Max-Ernest's eyes widened as the contract rolled...and rolled...and rolled out. The contract was enormous! Phantom chuckled at the young man's reaction.

"Now, sign your initial here," he pointed at an empty space, "First name here, mother's maiden name here, any diseases and allergies here, the name of your first pet here," Max-Ernest looked up and raised an eyebrow at this, then shook his head and continued. "Another initial here, signature, and done." Phantom finished as Max-Ernest filled out the blanks. "Now, get out there! Go get them, kid." Max-Ernest stands, looks at Phantom, and smirks. Phantom smiles at Max-Ernest as he walks out of the room.

As Max-Ernest waited behind the curtains once more, he began to doubt himself. What if Phantom was lying, and he would still do terrible? He thought about turning around and walking off of the stage, but then the curtains opened. He looked at the crowd, his nervousness overwhelming him, when he saw Phantom sitting in the corner of the room. Phantom gave him an encouraging nod, and Max-Ernest smiled gratefully. He could do this. He lifted his right hand up in a grand gesture, and an explosion of color went off in the room. As the crowd cheered, he glanced at Phantom, who nodded in approval. Grinning, Max-Ernest raised his other hand and vanished in a flourish of smoke. As he reappeared, satisfied with his performance, he wondered how he could've ever doubted himself, or Phantom, for that matter. His happiness, however, was short-lived. Before he had even finished reveling in his success, he knew something was off. The backstage looked the same, and the musky smell that came with the old bar hadn't changed. But somewhere deep inside of him, Max-Ernest felt something wrong. It vibrated through his whole being, and it took him a moment to realize what that feeling even was; intuition. In most cases, Max-Ernest would ignore something as inconsequential as a feeling. He preferred to stick to facts and materialness. But, in this particular case, the intuition was so strong, so overwhelming, that he had to humor himself by investigating. _It's probably nothing_, Max-Ernest thought as his smile was replaced with confusion. Nevertheless, he lifted his hand and reached out a small amount, feeling a little silly, and felt...nothing. Well, that wasn't accurate. He could feel plenty of things, such as the musty air around him, but he felt nothing out of the ordinary. After a split-second's hesitation, he thrust his hand out, his arm extended. Before his elbow had even straightened, he heard a light _thunk_ as his hand hit smooth glass, which curved in a way that undoubtedly formed a ball. His heart stopped, or at least, it seemed to. Max-Ernest was at a complete loss. He hadn't expected his intuition to be correct! He drew his hand back and hit the glass again, harder. His hand bounced off harmlessly. Frantic, he pulled out his wand and started banging at the glass, desperate to escape. "Hey!" He cried. "What's going on? Let me out of here!" Tears started to build up in his eyes. "Please, let me out. I want to leave. I...I want to go home." No one heard his pleas for help. He thought about Cass and Yo-Yoji, and the good times they had had together. He started to recognize the fact that he may never see them again. He slowly halted his frantic banging as the reality of the situation set in. Wherever he was, he was probably stuck there for good. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, thinking about, well, anything. He focused on the mystery of how he got into this predicament, and only one solution seemed possible. Phantom had tricked him. He thought back to the contract. It had been so long, it would be easy to slip in something about trapping the signer in a glass ball. Why Phantom did it or how he had gotten Max-Ernest into the ball were still unknowns, but for now, the who would suffice. Max-Ernest turned his back to the glass he had been banging on and observed the rest of his surroundings. It was a perfect replica of the backstage in the bar. If he hadn't just felt the glass surrounding him, he would have believed that he was still in the bar. Alas, he was instead in this strange place. As he reluctantly resigned himself to waiting in this ball, he was unaware of the fact that the glass ball rested on a familiar scepter. Behind him, Phantom sat stroking the scepter, satisfied with the prospect of another victim.


End file.
